Stalking Shadows
by Fin of Land
Summary: One of the problems with being a ninja turtle is that you make too many enemies and too little friends . . .
1. Hunter

Hey.

I've been working on this one for a while (and I'm still not finished). I think it's interesting (but I'm the author) and I hope you do, too. Like I said, this is a work in progress so updates with be slow after the first couple chapters. That is . . . unless you can get me motivated . . .

Disclaimer: No, I don't own them . . .

-

He raised his head to the clouds accumulating above his head. Looking back at the concrete under his feet he sighed and started to run jumping from roof top to roof top. His black bandana tails whirling around his scared, green face and whipping the shoulders of his beat up leather jacket. The storm was approaching fast. He could see the lighting in the distance and hear the roar of thunder rush toward him.

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5 miles away. _Flash_

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_Bang._4 miles.

This storm was fast, he had to find shelter. He did a graceful flip into a darkened alley below landing cat-like on the rough concrete. He heard a soft padding of feet in a quickened pace. Carefully placing himself between a dumpster and a few garbage cans he waited for the figure to show itself.

A shadow began to lengthen against a wall at the end of the alley, contorted and disfigured by the random clashes of lightning. He heard labored breaths approach his hiding place and the distorted shadow became smaller.

Suddenly, the figure appeared at the end of the alley, slowing its speed so that his feet lumbered in an exhausted gait. A flash of blinding light illuminated the scene. It was a turtle. A red bandana tied around his sweat laden and rain streaked head. His shell was a light tinge of green with a skin tone of a dark hunter-green. Brown leather pads decked his knees elbows and wrists. Thrust into his belt were two large weapons with three prongs, the middle one the longest, glistening with the rain and shining in the dull feeble moonlit rays that were lucky enough to cut through the thick downpour.

The turtle looked around and bent down next to a manhole cover lifting it up in silence with the ease of practice. The turtle gave one more glance at the storm embattled alleyway then slid down into the sewers like a liquid shadow.

Carefully shifting the garbage bags so he could slip through, he gazed down into the black stinking depths of the sewers, and followed Raphael.

Easing himself through the hole he fell to the ground silently and started forward. Ahead he could still hear the exhausted breaths from the other turtle. Smirking a little at how easy it would be to track it; he followed, blending in with his shadowed surroundings.

Suddenly the turtle stopped. It pushed on the wall and a hidden door revealed itself. Stepping in quietly the turtle closed the door. A relevant smile slithered across his face. He stepped out into the open then slid, once again, into the shadows next to the entrance to the unknown lair. Putting his head against the entry he listened.

". . . Leo calm down they're only a couple scratches-" another voice cut the first one off.

"Scratches? Scratches! They're not scratches! They're . . . they're . . . lacerations!"

The first voice chuckled dryly.

"There is nothing funny about this, Raphael!"

"Just listenin' to you is funny." The first voice retorted

"We need to get those cleaned before they get infected . . . unless you'd like to be bedridden." The second voice said, obviously pleased with himself.

Silence reigned. Then, "Fine. I'll go see Donnie," the first voice murmured in defeat. Then as an after thought: "_Splinter Jr._"

He heard a pair of footsteps stomp off in the direction opposite the door. But the second pair never left. He considered the garb the first turtle was wearing, a _ninja _garb. Taking his chances he slowly opened the hidden door. Peeking in he saw no one. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of waiting, he slipped into the lair undaunted, unnoticed.

So thought he.

He was met with a vast circular room that swallowed him in awe. A bridge with a small pond of water sat in the center of the room, the water's surface calm and serene. About 13 televisions were piled on top of each other creating a huge monitor set to right of the pool. A second level overlapped the first held up by huge, light beige, brick pillars. A bridge like structure was its creation.

Silently he slid into a shadow behind a pillar. "Who are you?" The voice, filled with an unexplainable malice, scared him to a breaking point. He slammed a hand over his mouth to muffle a yelp and turned around swiftly in fighting stance. Another turtle. This one had a light blue mask with a leather brown strap stretching across his yellow plastron and around his shoulder, connecting a leather sheath to his shell. Two handles of twin blades peeked out from over his shoulders wrapped in the same blue cloth of his mask.

"Who are you?" the turtle repeated the question tightening his glare in a dignified way. He returned the glare and said nothing. He saw the turtle's hand twitch upward. "Wouldn't you like to know," he said with sarcasm intertwining in his words. In a movement quicker than the eye the turtle had unsheathed a sword, flipped over him, and placed the sword right below his chin. "Yes, I would," it said. The breathing on his neck made him go rigid. "Now, I'll ask again. Who are you?"

He kept his voice as calm and dignified as possible "Dagon." He responded. "Who're you?" he asked. The turtle tightened his glare and inched the blade closer to Dagon's neck. "You're in no position to ask questions." In the blink of an eye Dagon grabbed the handle of the sword kicked the turtle in his stomach and flipped over him doing as the turtle did and placing the sword at his neck. "Now I am. Who are you?"

The turtle did not tremble or show any signs of fear. "That's none of your concern," he said. Dagon was growing impatient with the turtle. "Tell me," he said, unconsciously closing the gap between the turtle's neck and the trembling blade. It answered simply: "No. It's none of your business." "It will be when I slice you head off!" Dagon yelled into his ear. The bellow echoed around the circular room and reverberated off the walls, only increasing Dagon's anger at himself and the turtle. The pitter-patter of soft feet on the floor alerted him of the danger he was in. "We aren't finished," he whispered into its ear and slipped into the many shadows and out the open door, the sword in hand. Placing his ear to the door he listened and waited.

Finally, the feet stopped.

"Leo what happened?" The voice of the red masked turtle reached his ears.

_Hmm Leo, eh?_

he chuckled to himself and his pure luck.

"Intruder in the lair. We have to go find him. It's another turtle"

"But Leo-"

"HE TOOK MY KATANA!"

Silence and heavy breathing.

"But what about your spar-"

"No. We're finding him and we're finishing him. He's a threat to this family and he must be eliminated."

Dagon grinned, so they thought they were going to kill him, huh? They've got another thing coming. The malicious grin widened as Dagon started to run. He looked up and spied a pipe barely visible within the grasps of shadow. Quickly, Dagon leaped onto the wall and pushed off with his other foot, grabbing onto the pipe and heaving himself onto it.

The only sound heard was a squeak from the pipe with its new found weight.

The squeak was soon followed by diligently disguised foot steps. The footsteps grew nearer yet there was no sign of any being. Only a trained eye could have caught the shadows shifting. Dagon's wicked smirk was topped off with a spiteful glare. Silently, Dagon stalked the shadows.

The hunters became the hunted.

-

Well, what do you think?


	2. Steel

Yes, another update . . .

-

"Where could he have gone?" whispered the red turtle.

"Not far."

Dagon hid a chuckle, _Not far indeed._ Silently, Dagon drew the katana stolen from 'Leo'. Feeling the leather grip between his rough fingers Dagon reached into his belt and pulled out a shuriken. With the ease of practice Dagon threw the star a couple feet behind the turtles, hidden in the shadows it was invisible. Hearing the noise the turtles whipped around. While they were perplexed Dagon threw the sword so accurately that the only harm done was to Raphael's bandanna tails, which were sliced in half. Surprised, both the turtles jumped back into the shadows. Dagon laughed loudly.

"Come out little turtles," he chuckled "Dagon's hungry. And you're the perfect prey, but bide your time, the chase is the best part." Dagon's slightly manic voice echoed within the recesses of the sewer. Silently, Dagon crawled along the pipe, gripping it tightly, his body tensed for a surprise attack. A shadow shifted to his right and his eyes immediately focused on it. But, a voice behind him shocked him and he clutched at the bar for more support.

"It's even better when the prey becomes the predator," whispered the voice in malice.

Dagon chortled and smirked. "Mind if I steal that phrase?" he questioned. Not really bothering to hear the answer he whipped around, a dagger brandished within his grasp. With out any time for reaction and currently balancing precariously on a thin steal pipe the turtle had no where to go.

No where at all.

Dagon thrust the dagger into the turtle's shoulder, so deep you could barely even see the pommel. He watched in amusement as the blue turtle screamed in agony and fell to the filthy floor of the sewer. A low growl to his left informed him of the red turtles' presence. Tearing his line of vision away from the struggling turtle on the ground Dagon focused his attention on Raphael. "So," Dagon began as both adversaries leaped off the bar and onto the brick floor below ready to fight to the death. "How are you two related?" Raphael snarled wickedly. "None of your business," he spat.

In one fluid movement Dagon pulled a hidden knife from the depths of his jacket's leather pocket, blocked the hasty attack made by Raphael, jerked the dagger so the sai flew out of Raphaels' grip and twisted around to meet Leonardo's renewed attempts of assassination. Easily disarming Leo's only able weapon wielding appendage, he lifted his leg to deliver a robust kick to the turtle's naturally armored stomach, only to be thwarted by a sharp tug on his bandanna tails.

Stumbling backward Dagon barely had time to prepare for a blow aimed for his face, ducking beneath the punch he grabbed the arm and twisted it behind the attacker's back. Results? A strangled cry from Raphael. A sudden scraping of metal against brick alerted Dagon of Leo's attack. Grabbing Raphael's shoulder Dagon twirled around putting Raph between him and Leonardo's sword. The sword's shining arc stopped abruptly, inches from Raphaels' throat.

Dagon had gained the upper hand.

-

Ohhh. Cliffhanger . . . Kinda.


	3. Murderer

Here you go.

Enjoy . . .

-

Rage racked Leo's quivering body. With no choice what-so-ever Leonardo was forced to release his, now rendered worthless, weapon. He tensed as the sword collided with the unforgiving brick, ignoring the blinding pain in his left shoulder.

A sneer presented itself on Dagon's mauled visage.

Purposefully, he tugged at the arm clasped within the grasp of his right hand. His captive was the picture of ire. Teeth clenched with restrained fury, Raphael glowered at the floor in front of him. He was weak, unprepared and it had cost him. "What do you want?" Leo asked, clenching his fists, using his fingernails to dig into his palms, distracting himself with the pain so as not to charge full-in to the newly arrived foe and risk Raphael's life.

"Your lives. Or maybe, just the life of your brother." Dagon mocked, casually reaching into his coat pocket, drawing a knife and flicking it, expertly catching it in mid-air and holding it against Raphael's throat. "No! If you dare harm him, so help me I'll- wait. How did_you_ know we were brothers?" Wrath and confusion were written all over Leonardo's face.

Dagon smirked.

"I do now, don't I?"

Raphael's body went rigid as blood trickled down his throat. All Leonardo could do was stare on in horror. If he moved Dagon would slit his brother's throat. If he stood his ground, Dagon would slit his brother's throat.

Leo leapt.

Quickly scooping up his fallen katana in his left hand while drawing the other with his right he pivoted, crossed the tips of the two swords in mid-air and aimed them at the top of Dagon's head.

Escape routes rapidly presented themselves in Dagon's mind. Slicing even farther into Raphael's neck Dagon leaned forward and twisted. Landing on his back with Raphael as a live shield.

The soaring turtle's eyes widened. With the few seconds left for reaction he rotated in the air, protecting his brother from the downfall of his blades while knocking the wind out of himself by landing on the unforgiving concrete. Literally choking on his own breath, Leonardo was completely vulnerable.

In preparation Leo turned over, his body still convulsing, ready to face the final blow that would take his life.

-

If you thought the other chapter was a cliffhanger . . . Heh heh. I never thought I could be this mean . . . But: Merry Christmas! I promise I'll update on Christmas day . . . or maybe even Christmas eve (probably the latter). Have a good holiday.


	4. Not Quite

Hey everybody! Merry Christmas (erm . . . Happy Holidays . . .)! This is my present to you . . . (Hope it's up to snuff . . . can't believe I just said that).

**Turtle Wax: Here you go . . .**

** Floragirl101: Thanks for the review! **

Enjoy!

-

Yet it never came.

No barrage of kunai thrown into his stomach, no attacks, no smirking façade fading into oblivion.

Silence.

Struggling to his feet Leonardo surveyed the area, still expecting a surprise assault from the hidden depressions that formed the corners of the sewer. Apparently the only other living being in his field of vision was his heaving brother, still on the ground, paralyzed with sheer adrenaline. Stumbling over to his sibling, almost fumbling with his feet, he knelt down next Raphael.

Raph glanced over to his brother, fingers that were attempting to dig themselves into the ground immediately relaxed.

Three words were spoken:

"That was intense."

Leo half-smiled and leaned back, bracing one arm against the brick of the sewer floor and cradling the injured one in his lap.

Recovering, Raphael sat up and looked at his brother's arm with concern. "We gotta clean that up," he commented. Leo laughed out loud at the irony in that statement. Albeit, it was a weak laugh. "Hypocrite," he whispered through one of the many flashes of pain that seemed to be growing more frequent second by second. "I'm serious," Raphael retorted, anger presenting itself in his tone, if ever so briefly.

Leonardo sighed. "You're-"

Footsteps in a quickened pace on the sewer floor.

Both turtles turned toward the sound, wary, ears pricked.

Raphael slowly got up as the nigh inaudible sound became louder. He reached over to pick up a fallen sai and proceeded to move, low to the ground, hunched over his knees, in front of his vulnerable brother. Protectively placed between the newfound sound and his incapacitated sibling with his weapon brandished defensively.

They both breathed a heavy sigh of relief when the light of a sewer lamp revealed that it was none other than their brother Donatello, followed closely by Michelangelo.

"Leo!" It was Donatello who spoke first. Michelangelo's gasp followed shortly behind.

Don rushed over to Leo, passing Raph who had decided to straighten his posture and stand upright.

"What happened? We heard shouts and fighting-"

Mikey interrupted: "Yeah, dude. I know you guys like to fight, but geez Raph."

"That wasn't me," Raphael's voice was low. Danger lacing even its tone. "That is not my dagger." His eyes were fixed on Leo's left shoulder.

Throughout this lovely reunion Leonardo had been losing feeling, strength, and consciousness quickly. "Hold in there, buddy," he heard his intellectual brother whisper. He felt Donatello fingering the pommel of the knife. Even the gentle vibrations his brother's fingers sent through the handle of dagger made his body twitch and shiver.

His other two brothers had gone unnaturally quiet.

"How is he, Donny?" Mikey asked softly.

"Not good. We need to get him home."

"Yes, we do . . ." Raph said dreamily. He shook his head as if coming out a reverie. "That weirdo could still be here somewhere." He looked around suspiciously.

Don looked up, an unspoken question in his eyes, but he decided to save it for later when his other brother wasn't spiraling into shock. He doubted he would have answered anyway.

He had Raph pick up Leo's legs while he supported Leo's shell. Mikey held the injured arm up as to not offend the wound further.

In silence they walked home, cradling their injured brother (who by that time had passed out) carefully in their arms.

When they arrived in the lair, Splinter was just coming out of his sanctuary. He paused, looking at them intently, before walking calmly over to his struggling sons. "What has happened?" He questioned passively. Raphael responded: "Intruder. We went after him. He stabbed Leo then took off. The coward . . ." He muttered under his breath, gritting his teeth all the while.

Donatello looked surprised. "Intruder? He came into the lair?" They set their brother down on the couch. Raphael nodded, but kept his eyes anxiously glued to his fallen brother.

"Alright," Don began, letting their security issue go for the time being. "Mikey: towels, lots. Raph: _Warm_ water. Master Splinter, could you please get me some cotton swabs, antibiotics, and some gauze. Strike that, a lot of guaze." In unison, they nodded and went to fetch their assigned items.

Donatello knelt down and their brother's side and began stroking their brother's forehead in what he hoped was comforting way.

"Soon enough you'll be good as new . . ." He said quietly.

Mikey was the first to arrive back. He had the lair's whole supply of towels bundled in his arms. Moving fast, Don took the first two squares of fabric and stuffed them under Leo's afflicted appendage. He then proceeded to line the floor with three more. The rest he kept close by. Raph was the second to arrive. In his hands he carried a steaming bowl of water. Don instructed him to set it down on his other side. Finally, Splinter arrived and they launched the beginning of a long and painful process: Extracting the knife.

"Alright. Mikey, Raph hold Leo down. This is not going to be easy."

Their brother's tortured cries began to ring through the air . . .

-

The updates are most likely going to be few and far between from now on, please stick with me?

Pwesent for teh hungwy aufor? cough)reviewcoughcough)


	5. Possibilities

Hey, long time no . . . type. Sorry 'bout the long wait I'm just really lazy and I just got around to posting this from my notebook. I'm not sure how long the next update will take. Hopefully not too long . . .

Thanks for sticking around!

Enjoy:

-

Several hours later, they were all sweating, either out of fear, exhaustion or pain. Leo was securely bandaged and right now that was all that mattered.

Donatello stood in the kitchen, washing his hands of his brother's blood in their tiny sink. He shuddered as he began to recall the experience causing his brother so much pain; of being the one to cause his brother to scream and writhe so . . . direly. As if he wished the angels in heaven and the devils in hell to here his cries.

Once he was finished he leaned against the sink, utterly exhausted.

He shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose just below his mask. As soon as he did he was bombarded with the memories of his brother's agonized, keening wails coupled with his wide-eyed, unseeing stare, blinded with pain.

His eyes shot open and it was then he realized his little brother, Michelangelo, was standing in the kitchen doorway, anxiously fiddling with his hands. There were dried tear-tracks crusted to the surface of his face. A temporary drought. A nervous but hopeful look in his eye.

"D-Donnie," he began. "Leo's gonna be alright, right?"

Don pulled a tired smile from some reserve he didn't even know he had and nodded. "He's gonna be ok. I checked the knife for poison and it was clean."

Mikey's face immediately brightened with relief . . . and then dimmed slightly. "Are we going to have to leave the lair?"

Donnie sighed, his weary grin was automatically wiped from his face. "Most likely. It's pretty strange this 'other turtle' was able to penetrate our defenses, but that could just have been Raph disabling the alarm because he didn't want to get caught-"

"I did, right before I left."

Both Mikey and Don looked towards the second doorway leading into the kitchen. Raph stood there, baring the way like a guard. A disapproving, angry, surly and altogether Raph-ish look was plastered onto his face, but . . . Don couldn't help but think there was something different . . .

"You disabled the alarms _again_?" He couldn't help the annoyance that had crept into his tone.

"Yeah, I did." Raph answered. A challenging look entered his eye, but it quickly, and curiously, fled from his expression. He averted his eyes.

Mikey and Don shared a glance. Raph was holding himself back. _Does he feel . . . guilty? _Don wondered. Sure his passionate brother had a hard time expressing his emotions (other than anger) and talking about them with his family. That would explain his holding back. And Raph was, of course, extremely protective of his brothers. It would only make sense that he would think he was at fault for Leo's wound.

Don sighed. "Well. We're probably going to have to leave the lair anyway. This Dagon character now knows where we live and there's nothing to say that he didn't see you hacking into the alarms," Don shot a glare at the guilty part. "And hasn't got the entrance code."

Donatello paused, letting the situation sink in, before continuing: "Besides, he could be working for someone with _back_-"

He was interrupted by a bout of coughing and at some point in the round of feigned sickness the word 'Shredder' may have been discernable. Donatello and Raphael looked over at their brother in annoyance.

When Michelangelo was finished he tapped his chest with his fist, clearing out the rest of the pseudo-phlegm. "Sorry," he said. "I've had this terrible cold . . ."

The room was silent for a few moments while the older brothers grappled with the urge to punch-

Don took a deep breath and exhaled.

"Thank you for your input, Mikey."

"Anytime, bro. Anytime."

"As I was saying," Donatello continued, making eye contact with each of his brothers in turn. "If he is working for _someone,_and even if he isn't, we'll have to move up to Casey's grandmother's house."

"For how long?" Raph asked.

Don shrugged.

"I guess it depends on who's after us."

-

OoOoOoOoOh who could it be . . . Actually the revealing of the villian may be a little anti-climatic for some of you 'cuz you might not have seen the episode. I'll try to see if I can post it or find it on YouTube or something . . .


	6. Master

Hey, guys! I'm so sorry for the long, long wait. I've been busy (and lazy) but that's no excuse. This was done at around 1:00 AM so if there are any mistakes feel free to point them out. I hope this isn't too crappy or inconsistent.

Enjoy . . . Please?

-

Above the sewers where the turtles sat pondering the rain was still drizzling lightly

Above the sewers where the turtles sat pondering the rain was still drizzling lightly. The storm had passed as quickly as it had come. Dagon sighed, breathing in the strange scents of this new world. The stench of pollution in the air made him slightly nauseous.

His master had bid him to report as soon as he had seen the turtles and where they lived. Their fight in the sewer had merely been a test. He needed to see how strong they were. Though he had to admit the similarities between him and the turtles irked him slightly he had come here to do a job and he would finish it.

He set off running from where he had stood in an abandoned alley way. But first he needed a place to stay.

Dagon leapt up a nearby fire escape and onto the roof of a tall building. He surveyed the area. Oh, what luck. He had picked the tallest building in the nearby vicinity. He could see for miles. All the lights and sounds of this city might have enthralled him if it wasn't for the distinctly human stench to anything and everything he looked at.

He needed a place to stay that wouldn't be full of humans or too far away from the turtle's lair. A building to his right caught his eye. It was old and rundown but it would serve his purpose. He began to run towards it. He was not accustomed to leaping over the tops of buildings, and he almost fell a few times, but he managed to make it to his destination. The building was even more decrepit than he first thought.

His master, he remembered urgently. He walked into the alley way that was to the left of the building and knelt down next to the nearest puddle. He took out a piece of chalk from a small pouch on his belt and began to draw a series of runes around its imperfect perimeter. He muttered a few words underneath his breath before the water began to glow with a brilliant, otherworldly blue light.

Dagon squinted his eyes against the sudden barrage to his retinas, but his face, otherwise, remained passive and thoughtful.

The water rose into the air creating a perfect sphere of liquid, an ever-swirling vortex. The center of the sphere soon began to project a distorted image, like an old television with poor signal. It portrayed the picture of a monstrous snake. The head was armored with millions of jade scales. The piercing eyes were narrowed into an ever-present glare filled distrust, arrogance, and hatred.

"Master Hebi," Dagon began. "I have found the turtles."

"Good," the snake hissed. Its clever tongue flickered in between its fangs with pleasure. "Now you know what you are up against?" Dagon nodded. "And now you know what you must do?" Dagon nodded once more. The snake's ruby eyes glimmered with satisfaction. Revenge and victory were now within its grasp (figuratively, of course).

"Then go."

The image of the snake terminated suddenly and the water from the puddle fell down to the ground and splashed him in the face. Dagon blinked, surprised, but only slightly.

He began to get up but a movement flickered in the corner of his eye and he turned slightly to meet it. A dingy, human male sat a few feet away shivering uncontrollably and currently was trying to meld with the wall behind him.

Dagon sneered. He would have to dispose of this witness.

He got to his feet, leaning cockily to his left side. "Would you like to live?"

The human nodded furiously. Its vocal chords were currently frozen with terror.

Dagon smirked. "Too bad."

And before it could even remember its legs and run the human had a knife lodged in its larynx.

It gurgled for a few minutes, slumping to its knees. It actually managed to dislodge the blade from its throat with trembling, scarlet-coated fingers but, other than that, was able to do little else.

It died.

As soon as the animal was finished twitching in death's throes, Dagon walked over to it and retrieved his knife from its clutching ruby appendages. Its eyes were cloudy, staring into their own oblivion. Horror was still instilled on its face.

Dagon paid it no mind. Instead he walked away, wiping his knife on a cloth he always kept with him for just that purpose.

-

Well, there you go. That's Dagon.

And if you don't know who Hebi is then check my profile for the link to the first episode he appeared in. I'll try to update again soon. Review pwease?


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